Untitled Truth
by Desire of the Endless
Summary: This is the story of a Zombie. This whole thing is mine. I should be periodically adding chapters, so keep watching.
1. Ch 1 Scream Come True

_**Scream Come True**_

Dreamworld is beautiful.

The east is covered in rolling green hills with scattered lakes and streams. There are villages here and there and every now and again there is a large and beautiful Victorian house or a castle. The south is nothing but ocean -beautiful blue ocean- bordered by a pristine beach and dotted with a thousand outlying islands. A pure paradise. West is a forest of autumn trees, frozen in the vivid colours of fall.

Seasons never change in Dreamworld. In the east it is always spring. The south is nothing but summertime. The west is always in autumn.

Winter is reserved for the most beautiful part of Dreamworld. The mountains and pine forest that dominate the northern skyline. They are perfect. Their silhouette, outlined by beautiful amber sunrise or by sapphire blue, is more than art. There is not an artist's rendition of anything in the world that even comes close to comparison.

In Dreamworld, there is no pain. There is no suffering and no heartache. No one you love ever dies in Dreamworld. Anyone you've ever lost in the waking world comes back to you in Dreamworld just exactly as they were in your fondest memories of them.

In short, Dreamworld is perfect.

The only imperfect thing about Dreamworld…

Is that…

Eventually

-No matter how much you dread it-

You have to leave Dreamworld…

Usually with the rising sun.

For me, these awakenings have never been particularly pleasant. Usually I can only stand leaving Dreamworld and my family if I have coffee. Coffee is what makes my day bearable since I lost everyone in my family other than my little sister, Annica.

True, waking up was usually not a good experience, but it was particularly heinous that morning in August.

That morning, I received a particularly peculiar and rude awakening in the form of the friendly neighborhood hobo. He was standing over me, half decayed and gnawing on my right arm. Great. A zombie hobo was chewing on me. This was just going to be one of those days.

I couldn't very well leave him chewing on me, so I drew back my foot from under the covers and aimed at his nose. In retrospect, I suppose the nose wasn't exactly the best target, and perhaps I kicked him a little too hard, but it got him off. I think I should have kicked a little lighter, seeing as there was a loud SNAP and down he went, dead as a doornail, onto my bedroom floor, but what happened, happened, and now there was a previously-undead-looking-currently-RE-dead hobo on my floor in front of my closet. Gross. Plus there was the fact that my arm -the one that was chewed by Mr. Hobo- was bleeding the Nile all over my good sleep shirt.

I really needed coffee now, but first things first. I needed to wrap the arm before the stain spread to more than just the sleeve. So I held the wound and dragged myself into the bathroom to run cold water over my right arm while my left rummaged through the medicine cabinet for bandages.

A half-hour later, I emerged with a newly mummified arm wrapped from wrist to elbow in gauze and purple medical tape. I strode back into my room, stepped over the hobo, and opened my closet.

Nothing fancy. Jeans. Purple shirt. Socks. Black boots. A simple combination. I still hadn't gotten rid of the hobo, so I decided to change in the bathroom and a few minutes later, I emerged dressed and well groomed.

Coffee time.

On my way through the living room to the kitchen, I bumped into the still empty magazine rack that I had gotten from my fiancé the previous Christmas. It fell over, so I stepped over it; fresh, hot, dark coffee being my only thought.

The kitchen was immaculate as always. Counters perfect, small appliances organized on them by purpose then alphabetically, cabinets pristine, and the coffee canister sitting in its place next to the pot. Finally. Hot, caffeinated justice.

I walked over to the counter where it sat. The tension was building. I would finally have peace in this hell of a morning. My breath caught in my throat as I reached for the coffee container. Not even undead hobos could stop me now.

I opened the canister…..

What wafted up to greet me…..

W

A

S

Disappointment…..

Disappointment and the feeling that some cosmic force within the universe was out to ruin my morning. It was empty. No coffee. Lovely. My heart hit the floor and then continued sinking past the basement. I trudged back towards the living room.

I hadn't made it three feet from the door when I tripped over the magazine rack. My head hit the coffee table and the world went black. The universe was DEFINITELY out to ruin my morning.

7


	2. Ch 2 Hearts and Houseguests

**Hearts and Houseguests**

I awoke this time, not in a state of overall pissed as I had been before the table said a rather painful good-morning to my face, but rather in a state of perpetual hunger. Nothing in the fridge sounded good, so I meandered outside only to find my garden picked clean by the neighbors. The culprits stood not twenty feet from me in the street. Three of them. They smelled like my tomatoes and… bacon ?

Something in my brain said, "Eat them! They took your food! Eat them!"

I told it no, but it persisted, saying, "It's just the way of nature! It's what life is all about! Eat or be eaten!"

"I'm not a cannibal!" I yelled at it.

"Of course not! They're humans! You're not one of them anymore!" it argued. I had to admit it was a good argument, but I wasn't about to munch on my neighbors .

"But!" I tried to argue.

"C'mon! One little nibble can't hurt! Go on! Take a bite!"

At that, I broke . They smelled like bacon and the tomatoes from my garden. A human BLT. I dove in and, several blood-soaked moments later, resurfaced for air.

Across the street stood my sister, my best friend, Laura, and my fiancé.

"Alizon," Jack whispered; a look of pure sadness and terror on his face. My heart broke and I raced away, hiding my face in a bloodstained sleeve.

I wandered around for a little, trying my best to keep my face hidden and trying even more to keep away from Jack. What had I become? Had that hobo REALLY been a zombie? Was I one? I climbed a tree in front of the morgue and forced myself to sleep.

When I awoke, I was in a room on a cold metal table. A bright light shone on me from above. I was naked. I was alone. The air smelled of embalming fluid. I was so pale.

I sat up, tucked my legs up, wrapped my arms around them, let my head sink to my knees, and cried. My world was gone .

I was alone for about ten minutes, crying my eyes out; then the mortician came in. He stood at the door in shock as one of his "patients" sat curled in a ball on the table.

"Excuse me, miss?" he said, shakily, "This is a room for the dead only. How did you get in here?"

I looked up at him, tears staining my face. "I woke up here," I replied. "I guess that means I'm dead." I took the IV out of my arm. He had already begun the process of preserving my body. "My name's Alizon, by the way ."

"So you're miss Alizon, then. Very well. Someone claimed that you were his fiancée. He wanted you preserved in the perfection of youth , so I let him know I was happy to help him in such a sad time. I've used the very best techniques. You will never decay," he told me. "If you'd like, you can stay here with my wife and I, since you're clearly not deceased. You'll need a place to stay, dear."

"That's kind of you," I replied, "but I'm afraid I'm not a very good houseguest ."

3


	3. Ch 3 A Zombie's New Home

**A Zombie's New Home**

A week later, I awoke in the comfortable bed in the guest room that the mortician's wife had prepared for me the day I was embalmed. Angus had won that argument. Angus was the mortician's name. His wife was Molly.

I walked over to the closet where my jeans and shirt hung after Molly had washed them for me. Today, the little plump yet beautiful Irish woman said that we would be going shopping. It was time to get this zombie a wardrobe.

After I dressed, I took a nice long look at myself in the mirror. My mid-back strawberry-blonde hair was starting to lose its life. I guess that comes with the whole "undead" business. My pale skin was, in contrast, bright as blushing, but still unearthly, and my violet eyes were beginning to go lavender. I would have to ask Angus if he could fix that. My shirt would never go with lavender eyes. It would just look too tacky.

Anyway, after the look in the mirror, I went into the dining room and sat at the table next to the window. It had kind of become my "spot" so to speak. I could see Molly in the kitchen fixing breakfast like usual. Angus lounged across from me with his nose in the morning paper.

"Morning, Alizon," he said, politely without looking up from the article. He had a thick accent that made you think of the highlands. Or maybe of Braveheart. His slightly balding hair was as red as flame and it almost looked as though when JK wrote about Arthur Weasley, she had been looking right at Angus. Molly was the very picture of Ireland. She was a plump little woman with long, wavy, ginger hair. Her eyes were bright green, and her heart-shaped face was decorated with tiny freckles. Even for being nearly forty-seven, she was… well… cute. She had all the life and vitality of a teenager and a near perfect life.

In fact, I almost envied Molly for the life she had. Even if her husband was a mortician. They had no children, true, but they were both still alive. Better than that, they were alive and married and obviously in love. I wasn't sure of which fact I was more jealous.

Jack had proposed, but since death had already parted us, would it still be "until death do us part" or would he even bother to so much as look at me after the little "BLT" blood-fest?

2


	4. Ch 4 Undead Shopping Trip!

Chapter 4

**Undead Shopping Trip!**

I worried that Jack would never again so much as look at me. I loved him with all my heart. It would kill me to see him look away in disgust or fear. It had almost killed me that day… well, it would have almost killed me if I hadn't already been dead thanks to that hobo back on Willow Street.

But, I digress, so back to the story. Molly was in the kitchen, Angus was reading the paper, and I was still trying to get used to the bacon smell that humans gave off.

Though, I wasn't quite sure if I smelled them or the bacon Molly was cooking at that particular moment in time.

"Alizon, Dear," Molly called to me. "Would you mind coming in here a minute and helping me? I could use an extra set of hands."

I got up from my spot at the table and meandered into the kitchen where Molly stood over the frying pan full of bacon.

"Here, Dear, take this," she said, handing me the spatula. "I need to run down to the cellar and get the sausage. There isn't any up here. I won't be but a moment." Molly smiled warmly at me and strode out of the room, leaving me to watch the bacon.

I stared at it a moment. I remembered the taste from when I was still alive, but could I still eat it? I mean… I had been embalmed. Could I eat ANYTHING? I knew that humans weren't very appetizing, but maybe actual bacon. I would have to ask Angus what he thought.

A while later, Molly returned from the cellar and by that point, the bacon was on a plate, fully cooked and smelling amazing. I turned the pan back over to Molly, once more taking my seat across from Angus.

We sat silently for a few moments, then he looked up, breaking the silence with a question. "Alizon, there seems to be something troubling you. You're never this quiet. What's wrong?"

"Oh," I answered him, "It's nothing. I was just thinking about things like food."

"I see. You know, it may be possible for you to continue your previous lifestyle as a living human. You do breathe, you sleep, and you don't appear to have a thirst for blood anymore. I'd say a lot has changed in the past week."

I thought about it. Human again? What would I do? I couldn't go back to Jack. That door would be permanently closed. Maybe I wasn't the only still-living dead person walking around fully aware of what I was doing. I just knew that if that was the truth, Angus wouldn't be able to help us all… Although it might get him more business.

About an hour later, when Molly and Angus had eaten (I was still too scared to try it), Molly and I left for the mall. I know that seems like a really, really, bad place to take a zombie, but I'm capable of being have… whatever "have (hAyv)" may be…

The first few stores we passed were closed, due to zombie apocalypse. I guess most of my kind weren't exactly well mannered. In fact, it wouldn't surprise me if most of the stores were closed due to this unfortunate fact. What if people were hiding in the mall? Would they let me -from the ranks of the walking dead- even close to the doors?

As it turned out, things were actually pretty normal. Well, I mean aside from the fires that had randomly popped up since my last mall-crawl, and the corpses that now wandered the stores looking at Molly like she was an appetizer and at me like I was a freak for not eating her. I was suddenly reminded of my grade school days when kids used to ask me at lunch, "are you gonna eat that?" Well I wasn't going to eat Molly, and neither were they. I wouldn't have given them my peanut-butter-and-banana sandwich, and they certainly wouldn't get my new "mom".

Anyways, Molly and I strode easily down the center of the nearly empty mall looking for any store that might have my style. Open or closed didn't really matter since the owners of the closed stores had probably already been picked off by my brethren.

We finally found a store that had some of what I liked. "Four Leaf" was on the sign which hung by a single corner, the opposite now resting on the tiled floor next to the door. We walked in. I immediately went for the plaid pleated skirts and printed tees. The only thing that could possibly have made this any better would be some matte black leggings to go with it all and a plaid purse.

Which I managed to find next to some perfect-fitting black wedge heels.

But I couldn't be ALL skirts and pumps. So I also picked up a few pairs of jeans and some more printed tees. I also grabbed a jacket just in case zombies could still get cold.

On our way out, we ran into what those of you who have ever played a zombie game would refer to as a "survivor" clad in ripped jeans, a black button-up, and a faux leather London trench. So stereotypical.

"Hello," he said to us. "You two need to come with me." He grabbed my arm and began pulling us along.

"Wait! Stop! What are you doing?" I wasn't confused as per why he would pull Molly along, but why ME? I had already joined the ranks of the undead…

"Taking you with me to our refuge."

"I don't think your 'survivor' friends are going to like that, brainiac," I told him, brusquely.

"Why not? Come on, we need to go!"

"Check the pulse, smart one! I'm one of them! T. H. E. M." Something seemed to drive that point home. Perhaps it was the fact that NONE of the zombies were eating us?

"Y-you…" he stammered, "but… but how can you…? How are you…?"

"It's like you've never seen a dead girl before! Sheesh! Haven't you ever heard 'you are what you eat'?" Now I was just playing with him. I wouldn't have so much as licked him, but he didn't know that, so why not just have a little fun?

Poor survivor guy almost tripped over his own feet trying to get away, and Molly and I couldn't help but laugh.

"Should we follow?" Molly asked me, wanting more amusement.

"Let's!"

So we did. What happened next was just too much!

4


End file.
